


The Memory of Winter, The Promise of Spring

by Chibifukurou



Category: Mushishi
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 11:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibifukurou/pseuds/Chibifukurou
Summary: Despite the prevalence of mushi in the world most non Mushi Masters didn’t run into a problem with mushi in their lifetime. And of those that did, if they survived the experience, learned what to watch out for to avoid trouble.He should have known Miharu would be different. There had been no sign that the boy would start attracting mushi. But perhaps he should have known when the boy kept stumbling back into the false spring caused by the Harumagai year after year without being harmed.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	The Memory of Winter, The Promise of Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icarus_Isambard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarus_Isambard/gifts).

Ginko rarely got a chance to see people who he had helped before. 

Despite the prevalence of mushi in the world most non Mushi Masters didn’t run into a problem with mushi in their lifetime. And of those that did, if they survived the experience, learned what to watch out for to avoid trouble. 

He should have known Miharu would be different. There had been no sign that the boy would start attracting mushi. But perhaps he should have known when the boy kept stumbling back into the false spring caused by the Harumagai year after year without being harmed.

Still, when he first saw the young Mushi Master he didn’t make the connection. The young man was almost as tall as Ginko, dark hair capped his head in a ragged mop, the bag on his back was only large enough to carry his own supplies and perhaps a few simple medicines. He was talking animatedly with an older village woman, who looked something between scandalized and pleased. A line of mushi climbed over the roof of her home. Nothing too harmful, at first look. 

But one of them looked to be floating down the line of smoke coming out of her cooking fire. A mushi attracted to the warmth that came with living things, was not to be ignored. 

It was rare to run into a Mushishi so young. And Ginko debated for a moment, turning away from his search for an inn, to talk to the man and offer his expertise. But despite his habit of getting involved in situations he shouldn’t, Ginko tried to avoid getting attached to other humans. 

They were too fragile. 

He turned to head down the road that would lead towards the town’s center, only to draw up short by a sharp tug on his coat sleeve. “Ginko! I wondered if I would find you now that I have started my own journeys.”

Ginko clenched his teeth together, to keep the cigarette from dropping to the ground, when his jaw opened in surprise. And then choked on the resultant lung full of mushi infused smoke. When he managed to get a clear breath, he rasped out, “Sorry?”

There weren’t many Mushishi practicing their craft. Very few were born with their ability or the bad luck to attract more mushi than the surrounding environment could handle. And while proximity to the light vein slowed their aging, those benefits were often outweighed by the dangerous mushi they attracted. Not counting those they sought out in their work. A Mushishi who looked this young, Ginko should definitely remember. 

The young man, seemed to realize how forward he was acting. He pulled his hand away from Ginko’s sleeve and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head. “I guess it ha been a while. And I’ve grown.”

The sheepish grin mixed with the stubborn chin was what did it. It had been a while almost a decade. He had almost forgotten those two winters, as restful and bittersweet as they had been. He had once told Miharu that he might come see him again, in a different season. Because he’d known he was getting attached to both of the siblings, Miharu with his endless curiosity and Suzu who had been so lonely and so willing to offer him a life as part of her family. 

Such urges were dangerous. “I thought you would stayin your village with Suzu.”

Miharu shrugged his mouth twisting down into a grim line. “She wanted me too. But...” he trailed off looking away towards where the sun was starting to sink below the trees. Turning the opening blossoms into a riot of orange and pink. “I saw what you meant about nothing good coming out of someone like us staying too long. Even in a place with as few mushi as our home.”

His face pulled into lines of distress. Ginko expected him to start crying in another minute. This pain didn’t need to be shared with the village woman and her fire interested mushi. “Perhaps we can meet tonight. After you finished helping that woman out?”

Ginko had been planning to trade his craft for a night at the local inn, or if there was no need for his help, perhaps peddle a few of his medicinal extracts for coin. But it wouldn’t hurt to spend a night out under the stars. Particularly not if it meant catching up with an old friend. And perhaps finding out what had become of Suzu.

I’m planning to make camp in a clearing off the main road about an hours hike towards the north side of the mountain. 

“That would be great.” Miharu’s eager and recognizable smile was back. Like he had never been reminded of his loss. “I’ll catch up with you there tonight.”

He headed back towards the village woman, who was watching them both with a suspicious air. One Mushishi was more than enough to handle her warmth stealing neighbor. Two would make her suspicious of some trap. 

Ginko nodded to her and turned back for the woods. Only half listening the soothing patter of Hikaru’s voice as he soothed her worries and began to explain what mushi were. 

How long had he been on the road? He seemed to know his trade well enough, but the wound of leaving Suzu and his home village was still so fresh, it couldn’t be long. Ginko still remembered the struggle his first year after he stopped traveling with the Watari.

They followed the light vein. And were welcoming to those who could not stay in a normal village because of their interactions with mushi. For a time the light vein had been enough to keep people from being harmed by the mushi Ginko attracted. 

Perhaps, if Hikaru wasn’t attracting anything too dangerous, Ginko could guide him to the group’s current path. Being among the Watari was the closest Ginko had ever come to the feeling of home he’d found those two winters with Suzu and Hikaru. 

It would be a fitting repayment for their kindness. 

#

The moon was high overhead by the time Miharu joined Ginko in his camp. The moon had turned the trees into a roiling silver sea, their branches tossed by the sea. 

Here, in this place that seemed barely touched by humans, Miharu looked both more and less familiar. That smile was gone, but in its place was the stealing look he had used when he refused to tell anyone where he had gotten the winter greens, or how he had slept without injury through three winters. 

The idea of sending him to the Watari seemed to wither in Ginko’s breast. He still thought of Miharu as the child he had tried to tutor about the local mushi. One who needed protecting. But he was a man now, and one who had wanted to rescue every animal and mushi he came across. 

No, he would not be happy among the Watari. They were travelers only, what help they offered outsiders was limited to stories and the occasional word dropped into a Mushishi’s ear about something dangerous happening. 

“Sorry I’m late. I’m still getting the hang of how to convince people there is a problem they can’t even see.” The smile came back as a sad sliver. “I’m too used to Suzu believing me no matter what.”

“How is she?” It slipped out before Ginko had a chance to realize he was going to ask.

Miharu didn’t answer at first, instead motioning at the fish Ginko had speared to cook over the fire. Ginko waved him to take one, taking another for himself. They ate in silence. 

The fish were mostly free of their meat before Miharu spoke. “She found a man in the village to marry, they have two children,” he took a few more bites before continuing. “They started getting sick because of the mushi I was attracting.”

Ginko’s heart surged against his ribs. Hadn’t that been the exact thing he had feared when he had stopped returning to her home? Making Miharu or someone else sick.

“I didn’t realize at first it was me. We remembered that you said it wasn’t safe to stay, and that you attracted mushi. But they didn’t come all at once. Every year it was a few more. I just thought it was normal, or maybe that I hadn’t been able to see them before.” He put the rest of the fish down, seeming transfixed by place his hands had clenched into his coat. The tears streaking down his cheek glowed in the moonlight. “But when they got sick, I offered to go find a doctor on the far side of the mountain. By the time I made it back my niece and nephew were fine and happy again. And when I looked for the familiar mushi there were only a few.”

“I’m sorry.” Ginko said. Almost by rote. He’d known what the story would be before Miharu had spoken. But the grief still came as sharp as it did whenever he spoke with another Mushishi. They lived apart, forced to by a power they could neither ignore or control. 

Miharu continued on like Ginko hadn’t spoken. This was probably the first time he’d been able to explain to someone who would understand. The tears kept trickling down his chin, to fall on his clenched hands. “I went looking for the Harumagai last winter. I remembered no one got sick the winter you slept under their power. And I wanted to be wrong. I wanted to believe the mushi would come back even if I was asleep.”

“But they didn’t.”

“I scared Suzu half to death, pulling that old trick. But the children didn’t get sick beyond the usual childhood illnesses that winter. And when I woke there were only a few mushi in the area. Two weeks later they had more than doubled in number. I packed my bag the next day.”

Ginko bit back the urge to say he was sorry again. 

“I know what you mean now, about it being dangerous to come back to the same place. Even knowing what will happen I still find myself starting to go home, whenever I’m not paying attention. The training you gave me helps some, you told me how to handle most of the mushi that live in these mountains.” That smile was back, contrasted by the drying tear tracks. “And I admit that I got into more than a few scrapes with other Mushi after you left. 

Ginko wasn’t surprised. Though imagining the mischief was enough to lighten his spirits. He remembered Miharu as a boy, digging mushi out of holes and following them up trees. With a few more years experience he would have been a true terror. 

The comment about the few weeks he had to teach Miharu was enough to bring forth the seed of an idea. The Watari wouldn’t be enough for Miharu, but that didn’t mean Ginko had to leave him without help. “Travel with me this spring.”

“What?” Miharu looked up, half of a fish threatened to fall out of his slack mouth. 

“We can’t stay together always. The mushi we attract would be too numerous. But, I can teach you again, like when you were a boy.” He could repay their kindness those winters and make up for the fact he had never been strong enough to return and teach Miharu more about the mushi. How much heartache could he have saved, if he had just realized what would come of Miharu's fascination with the mushi? And had made sure he was properly trained. 

A line scrunched up between Miharu’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I still remember all you did for me and sis.”

“I want to. I wished I could have stayed and helped you that spring…” He let himself trail off. There was no need for excuses when they both shared the urge to climb back up that mountain, and return to the peaceful home that existed only in memories.

“Thank you, Ginko. I would like that.” Miharu said. 

“Until summer then.” Ginko replied. 

“Until summer.”

A season for a season, that felt like balance.


End file.
